BlackOut
by NorthernDreams
Summary: When a power outage at the Royal and General Bank allows a gifted hacker to gain access to Alex Rider's classified file, MI6 is forced to protect their secret weapon at all costs. But what happens when the concerned party doesn't want to be helped?
1. Chapter 1: The Graveyard Shift

**A/N:** Welcome to my first of what I hope to be several fanfics. Now please just bare with me while I specify a few things.

1) I read the books in French. I go to a French college, and therefore I might make a few mistakes concerning character and mission names. I don't believe it will happen, as I usually research the information before I write it, but just in case you find anything, let me know via the review feature.

2) I'm Canadian, not British. Although I do not speak or write entirely in American English, I do not write entirely in British English. I will do my best to make sure everything is easy to understand in both "dialects", but if ever there's something you don't understand, you can just ask me either through a review or a PM, and I will get back to you ASAP. I will also often try to add a glossary at the end of every chapter as a disambiguation of sorts, for words that I believe could be confusing for either "dialect".

3) I have read several Alex Rider fanfics so far, and although I have not stumbled upon a story with a similar plotline as **BlackOut**, this does not mean that such story does not exist. If you find or own anything similar to my writing, please let me know either via a review or a PM and I will do my best to rectify the situation, although all my ideas come from the voices inside my head... o.O

4) I do not own any of the Anthony Horowitz characters or missions. If I did, I wouldn't be living in a 1700 square-foot house.

5) I will only get better with your help. If ever something seems wrong with the story, or a character seems OOC, let me know and I'll try to rectify it.

Now, without further ado, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

* * *

**BlackOut**

_**Chapter 1: The**__** graveyard**__** shift**_

John Kent had never been fond of working the graveyard shift. Not only did it keep him from spending time with his loved ones during the day because their sleeping patterns were reversed, but it also made him feel like an imbecile to be working when seemingly the entire world was nestled in its bed. Well, not the _entire_ world. After all, his partner, Viktor Kokorev _was_ in the van with him.

As the vehicle came to a stop in front of an enclosed compound, John Kent cursed under his breath for accepting the task he was assigned. Then again, it wasn't as though he had the choice, what with four children and a wife to support. The thirty-eight-year-old man and his silent partner stepped out of the van and, while Kokorev went to unlock the gate, John headed to the back of the van. He opened the boot of the vehicle and only pulled out his tool belt, unsure of what to expect on the other side of the fence. His superior had told him this would be a routine job; that all that would be needed was the twist of a screw-driver here, the addition of a wire there, and all would be good. He didn't believe that for a second. For anyone to accept working the night shift, it was always necessary to sugar-coat the task at hand. When his partner came back, gave him a look that said it all, and grabbed the heavy toolbox located on the right side of the van, John knew he was right.

As they left the van, John handed the keys to Kokorev, as he would be the one driving back to headquarters. Slowly, they walked into the compound and took a look around, by which time John had managed to locate the source of the problem with the help of the error reports he had been handed before leaving. He gestured towards a component in the middle of the yard, next to the main transformer and they painstakingly made their way to it, at all times making sure not to touch any of the other electrical components in the compound. John lifted a brow as Kokorev, against regulations, laid the ponderous toolbox next to the main transformer. He didn't say anything though, as this would be a long night, and the last thing they needed was to be at each other's throats throughout the whole shift.

They started with the general inspection of the component, which was required to make sure the problem wasn't densely obvious. The moon was shining brightly, and thankfully, for the first time in days, there were only a few sparse clouds in the sky, yet the lighting was far from sufficient for them to do their job properly. Each of the men pulled out their electric torch and went about inspecting the key sections of the electric equipment, crossing off the inspected areas from their respective lists. When their search yielded no satisfactory results, the men decided to take a break before starting a more detailed analysis. After pointing out how fastidious it was to carry a torch-light and a clipboard whilst having to inspect every inch of the equipment, Kokorev's rose to go get the spotlight they had left in the back of the truck. He came back a few minutes later and they set back to work with new lists of more precise verifications to make, at which point they were already two hours into their shift. Although these new lists were a lot longer and more difficult to complete, they averaged the same amount of time per point as with the other list, John remarked.

"Kokorev's observation was actually beneficial," John thought, as Kokorev broke into a triumphal dance.

Puzzled by the face that Kokorev could read his mind, John shot him a suspicious look, only to find the young Russian was pointing towards a loose piece on the side of the component. Although it was interesting to imagine that his partner could read his mind, it was much more plausible that he had just located the source of the problem. Ergo, John walked over to see what the tall man was dancing about.

"John, look at this," was all he said.

"Good work Viktor! It doesn't seem too big a problem, just a bit tricky. I'll go get the toolbox and we should be out of here in half an hour, provided this is the only problem we have on our hands. After all, we mustn't forget to continue our complete inspection once this is fixed," he said, only to find Kokorev was blocking his path. "Sorry, could you please step aside so…"

Kokorev cut him off. "I'll get it," he said coolly, adding, under his breath, "this is bigger than us both."

John Kent raised a brow but, once again, said nothing as he watched Kokorev wobble his way to the other side of the component, and vanish from sight. John waited tensely whilst he heard his partner rummage through the toolbox. Finally, Kokorev's loud search subsided to a constant beeping sound. John looked at his watch, wondering why it would be ringing at this late hour, only to find it was not responsible for the ringing. He moved to the other side of the component, walking towards the toolbox, where the sound seemed to be coming from, only to find Kokorev had once again vanished from sight. A worrisome expression made its way onto John's face as the beeping grew faster and faster. He ran to the toolbox only to find it locked, and which point he yelled for his partner.

"Viktor, where are you!?" No answer. "KOKOREV!!" he yelped.

A confident response came from afar. "I told you this was bigger than us both!"

As he heard the distinct sound of the van's engine starting, John looked around for anything to pry the toolbox open, afraid of knowing what it contained. At that very moment, as he glanced at the hammer dangling from his tool belt, the ringing stopped.

The explosion was devastating. As Viktor Kokorev made his way down the road, he looked in his side-view mirror in time to see the compound and surrounding building go up in smoke, as an immense ball of fire rose towards the sky. Smiling from ear to ear for having completed his part of the deal, he looked back in front him to see all of downtown shut down as the electricity was cut off. He looked at his watch.

"Right on time…" he thought. "Now let's hope the others do their job properly."

* * *

Alan Blunt sighed. Being head of Special Operations at MI6 wasn't as easy as he made it seem. This was the fourth night in as many days that he had stayed at the office overnight to keep working. His department's most recent endeavours had generated a lot of paperwork, and he needed to work overtime if he also wanted to keep track of its current covert operations. There were three of them, hence the three documents he had opened on his screen.

The first one consisted mainly of a diagram filled with names, all linked between each other, that represented the structure of an Egyptian weapons-dealing organisation they intended on dismantling. His men had been trying to infiltrate the ring for months and had just managed to do so. It was therefore essential that Blunt keep a close eye on the operation, in order to make sure that everything went according to plan. After all, only a few missions aren't usually expected to go according to plan, but in those times, MI6 always called in one of their more talented agents, a very peculiar fourteen-year-old. Blunt was receiving updates every hour and adjusted his diagram according to the information he received.

The second document contained information concerning a mission of a less sophisticated nature, which would be summarised as the assassination of a German-born pro-communist terrorist in North Korea in later paperwork. Although the mission was easier to describe, it was no less complicated to execute, mainly due to the difficulty of crossing the country's borders. It was a well-known fact that the border between North and South Korea was one of the most dangerous places to be on Earth, as it is a no man's-land of epic proportions, running 250 kilometres by 4 kilometres, on each side of which can be found a very heavy concentration of military personnel of both North and South Korea, making it the most heavily armoured border in the world. Sending any MI6 operative through that zone could be considered murder, which is why Blunt had opted for an infiltration from the North, through the Chinese-Korean border. It had been rather difficult to organise, but now that everything was planned, including the operatives' escape, it should go down smoothly. Therefore, Blunt was soon going to give the go-ahead for the mission to be fully executed, so to speak.

Finally, Blunt opened the third document, and, as he did so, found himself immersed in complete darkness. He immediately picked up his phone only to find that he couldn't get a line. After a moment's hesitation, the head of Special Operations rose from his seat and walked over to his bullet-proof window to look out from the sixteenth floor, only to find the whole sector was pitch-black. He stared outside for a few seconds as some buildings were starting to light up again, presumably running on their backup generators. This could be said of the Royal and General Bank, for a few seconds later, Blunt was back at his desk booting up his desktop once more. He picked up the black phone on his desk and was pleased to find that he could immediately hear a dial tone. He punched a number and, after letting the phone ring for about a minute, heard an annoying little voice telling him that Security could not be reached at the current time, and to please leave a message after the beep.

Calmly, he spoke into the phone. "This is Alan Blunt. Call me in my office as soon as you have performed a security check."

And, as though the past few minutes had never even occurred, he turned back to his screen and typed in his username and password and set back to work. He sent out the orders for the completion of the mission relative to the German-born terrorist, then read the last update from his team in Cairo and subsequently added another level to the ironically pyramidal structure of the organisation, typing the name Akil Badawi in the new section he had just added. He then lay back for a few seconds until an incessant tapping sound grew very unpleasant, at which point, frustrated, he opened his eyes to find the noise was a result of his fingers fidgeting and tapping his desk. Finally deciding the past five minutes had been ample time for the security staff to perform a routine system check, Blunt once again picked up his phone and dialled the same number he had a few minutes before, but hung up as someone knocked on the door to his office.

In his usual calm manner, Blunt went to open the door, after verifying with the help of the camera located on the other side of it that the person knocking was an MI6 employee.

"You people at Security are so incompetent!" he barked. "Not only did I call you over five minutes ago, but I also recall having asked you to CALL me, not to waste time coming to my office."

"I know sir but…" the man replied, before Blunt cut him off again.

"I don't care for your excuses, just tell me what you've found. Start with the cause of power outage," he ordered.

"Well sir, first of all, the power outage was caused by an explosion as a transformation depot about twenty minutes from here. It is unknown whether the cause was accidental or intentional, but the electric company says they had a repair crew on site at the time of the explosion," the security employee let out in one breath, clearly aching to say more.

Paying very little attention to the man's anxiety, Blunt spoke again. "Very well, I want you to head back to Security and call in backup. I don't believe in coincidences, and if we lost power, it's for a reason. I want every centimetre of this building cleared, so use every man you can to do so. Dismissed."

"But sir.." the young man whined, refusing to leave and making his anxiety clear by jumping from foot to foot.

"Did you not hear me!?" Blunt groaned. "It is never a good idea for you to be contradicting me, but this is particularly not a good time for it. I don't want to fire you, but so help me, I will if you keep it up. Do you understand?"

Blunt turned around and headed back for his desk.

"Yes sir, but we have a security breech!" the man yelped, finally deciding to say what he had to say.

"What!?" roared Blunt. "Why didn't you tell me about this before!?"

"Well sir, you never…" the man tried to respond, but was cut off once again.

"There's no excuse for your incompetence this time. Just tell me now."

"Very well sir," the security officer started. "When the generator started up, our security system booted a few seconds after the central servers. It seems that this was sufficient for someone to gain access to classified files. "

"What!?"

"Well sir, they obviously knew what they were doing and what they wanted, because there's no way they could have reached these files in such a short time, nor could they have stumbled upon them by accident. Sir, whoever did this had to know the power outage was going to occur before it did. Now clearly, we will be changing the boot sequence, but…"

"Which files?"

"Pardon me sir?"

"Which damned classified files did the scum manage to get a hold of?" Blunt asked, clearly out of patience for the inept officer in front of him.

"Well actually sir, they only wanted one file," the man stated, analysing Blunt's reaction.

"Spill it out," Blunt ordered, growing overly agitated.

"It's a personnel file sir," the small man said. "By the name of Alex Rider."


	2. Chapter 2: Presence and Presents

**A/N:** Wow, has it been 4 years already? Time flies when you're in university… Hopefully I can still take this story where I wanted it to go, despite beating **amitai**'s record for longest update delay.

1) With all that has changed in the Alex Rider universe, I have had to rethink the original plotline. Just know that this story takes place **after Scorpia Rises**.

2) Obviously, Blunt was still head of MI6 when I started this story four years ago. Not to worry though, you'll find out soon enough why **he still is, **despite what happened at the end of Scorpia Rises.

3) Please also note that I chose not to adhere to the defined Alex Rider lifespan. Horowitz's multiple contradictions throughout the series confused me more than anything. I have therefore used the logical birth year of 1995 rather than the 1987 specified in the series.

4) **The disclaimer**: Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and publish the entire Alex Rider series before Horowitz. Sadly, my extensive experience in time-travel has taught me to avoid such paradoxes.

5) As said, I don't own the Alex Rider universe, but **I do own everything else in my story**. Steal anything and I'll send my army of rabid war-weasels to eat your children's entrails (yes, I know, quite a gruesome picture there).

With that said, please enjoy this update of BlackOut, and I **promise** I won't take so long to update in the future.

* * *

**BlackOut**

_**Chapter 2: Presents and Presence**_

As Alex lay in bed contemplating the ceiling, he wondered what he would do that day. After all, it wasn't just _any_ day. Unless you considered a teenage MI6 operative's sixteenth birthday to be normal.

'_Former _MI6 operative', Alex reminded himself.

The Pleasures had probably organised something for him. This was, after all, his first birthday since he had escaped MI6's grasp. It was also his first birthday since Jack had been killed. Just thinking about it made Alex want to vomit. For all the progress he had made over the past year with the Pleasures, he was still unable to forgive himself for what had happened to her, and he probably never would.

Fortunately, however, things weren't going too sourly for Alex. To his own surprise, he had found it quite simple to fall back into a regular teenager's routine. Admittedly, it was nowhere near as difficult as being shot, being tortured, nearly having your organs sold off one by one, or fighting a deadly assassin in outer-space, but the pressure of reintegrating with normal society made Alex uneasy. While he had mostly succeeded in appeasing his adoptive family's concerns, they occasionally expressed their belief that it was all just a façade put up by a professional deceiver. And if Alex was to be perfectly honest with himself, he sometimes wondered the same thing.

It was a futile exercise if there ever was one. Sure, the physical scars had somewhat healed, but it would have been obvious to anyone who knew Alex well that the teen was having a hard time getting a grip on his emotions. First, there was the paranoia of constantly being watched. Then came the nightmares and the fear that once again, he could be propelled into the real world, a world that a teenager such as himself, or anyone for that matter, should be oblivious to.

As he rubbed his eyes and glanced at his clock, Alex felt his heart sink. Would he ever be able to celebrate his birthday, or would February 13th always serve as a reminder of all the people who _weren't there_ to celebrate it with him? _John, Helen, Ian, Jack_… All the people who had cared for him and loved him, and whom he loved. At least there was still Tom. Even if he was half a world away, his best friend was still alive and well, and Alex found comfort in knowing that not all the people he cared about were dead.

Slowly, he embarked upon the painful mission of waking up and getting ready for the day ahead of him. Over the past months, he had grown accustomed to sleeping in, something he would never have dared to do while in his uncle's custody, and which he would never have allowed himself to do while on a mission. It was quite blissful, he remarked, to be able to ignore his surroundings and immerse himself in his thoughts for hours on end. However, although this might have been the appropriate place to do so, it most certainly was not the appropriate time, Alex considered, as his alarm clock sounded eight o'clock.

It took him a relatively short time to get ready. He was washed, clothed, had made his bed and brushed his teeth in just under fifteen minutes, so that it was twenty past eight when he stumbled down the last few steps separating him from the bottom story of the house. Sabina was laughing as Alex got back up and mumbled something about "stupid wooden staircases" in means of a greeting, while grabbing the glass of orange juice she had poured for him.

Seated at the dinner table, Elizabeth Pleasure observed the teenagers' interactions out of the corner of her eye. Sometimes Alex could be a handful, she thought, but no matter how dim the situation, Alex always had a gift for making people smile, no matter how he went about it.

"Good morning sleepy head," Sabina said, ruffling Alex's hair, only to have him grunt and pull away. "Oh, aren't we in a testy mood today?" When Alex didn't reply, she kept going. "I know you aren't much of a morning person, but I figured you'd be in a good enough mood to open your present…"

Alex swiftly lifted his head and grinned at his adoptive sister and close friend in anticipation.

"Finally!" she exclaimed. "I knew you had it in you to smile, even if the weather isn't very encouraging."

"Come on Sab… Where is it? You know I have ways of making you talk…" Alex played along in a devious tone.

"Pfft. You'll get it soon enough," Sabina interrupted with a nonchalant flick of the hand. "But now that you've proved you can smile and joke, you have no excuse to act like you've just discovered the Four Horsemen are coming this afternoon. You'll get your gift later," she added with a subtle smirk.

Alex couldn't help but pout. He'd just been defeated at his own game. Sabina was right. There was no way he could keep sulking now that she had tricked him into cheerfulness. What did it say about his capacities as a spy if he hadn't seen this coming? Luckily, he didn't have the chance to damn himself further, as Mrs. Pleasure interrupted him to find out what he wanted for breakfast.

"I take it a Sunday brunch is out of the question?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Is today Sunday?" she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Sure feels like one to me!" Sabina chipped in, making her mother grin.

"Sorry kids, you know all too well I don't have time for that on Thursdays. As a matter of fact, neither do you!"

"Just the usual eggs then… and try not to burn them this time," he added, as Mrs. Pleasure turned back towards the hob.

She gave the teen the most pitiful look of mock-hurt he'd ever seen as she asked in what Alex surmised to be her flustered tone. "Me? How on Earth could _I_ burn eggs?"

Pretending to think hard in order to answer the question, Alex replied. "I can think of at least dozen ways at the moment. Give me a bit of time and I should be able to double that amount."

They all started laughing as the adult busied herself with breakfast while Alex went to fetch the morning newspaper. When he got back to the kitchen table, Sabina was cheerfully humming away to one of her favourite American songs that Alex had never bothered to learn, nor paid much attention to. He pulled up a chair, sat down next to her and unrolled the paper, careful as to not pinch himself with the elastic that required removing first. Following in his uncle Ian's old habit, he unfolded the paper and gave it one swift shake before reading the day's headlines. Nothing particularly interesting caught his eye, so he proceeded to flip through the pages, reading only the headers and surmising the article content. Eventually, he reached the _International Headlines _section, and started his daily search.

Alex was homesick, and so anything even mildly connected to the United Kingdom was always immensely interesting to him. Most days, he swore inwardly at the lack of interest American newspapers showed toward the UK, but it seemed today Alex had struck gold. A bold white font on black background read "BlackOut: London Paralysed by Power Outage". Though Alex knew the media often bulldozed over the fine line between reality and sensationalism, his curiosity pushed him to read further to discover just how "paralysed" London really was. He therefore set upon reading the small paragraph below the headline.

_Half of downtown London was left in the dark overnight after a suspicious explosion disabled an important transformer just outside the city. The cause of the explosion remains unknown at this time, but officials have confirmed that a repair crew was working on site at the time of the incident. It is unclear at this time how long it will take for the power to be fully restored, as the site played a key role in London's power grid._

Quickly, Alex realised how uninformative the article was, and when his adoptive mother set a plate down in front of him, his stomach prevailed over his curiosity. He quickly tossed the paper aside to get a better look at the… burnt repast. 'Of course, why should this day be any different?', he mused.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Sabina asked, noticing Alex had yet to touch his food. "You'll need your energy today."

With a ridiculously loud sigh of defeat, Alex set to scraping off the black on his toasted bread and gulping it down as he went along. The dismal grey sky outside was a perfect match for his mood.

* * *

Mid-afternoon found Alex seated in the den, waiting for Sabina in peaceful oblivion. Both teens had stayed home from school today, and his much-adored friend had ordered him upstairs nearly half an hour earlier. Alex, virtually locked in the small office, didn't want to disappoint her by setting out to investigate what she was up to. Instead, he sat sulking in front of the computer he had received in the mail a few days prior from Smithers.

It was an ordinary, nameless piece of machinery no doubt concocted in the depths of Q-Section, but for the life of him Alex couldn't figure out what was special about it. Sure, it was lighter than most models he had seen in the stores, and it only unlocked at the touch of _his_ fingerprints, but that was about it. Surely there was something more to it? Then again, what use would he have for Smithers' renowned gadgetry now that he no longer worked for MI6? Perhaps it really was just a gift for his 16th birthday.

Though Alex had always been sceptical by nature, he wouldn't have had to be asking himself these questions if Smithers had bothered to be more explicit in his note. On the day he received the parcel, Alex almost tossed the small piece of paper that slipped out of the box, not realising it was a note until Sabina shoved it in his face. That very same note now lay on the desk next to the computer, and Alex stared at it as if it were some sort of cypher.

'_To Mr. Alex Rider,_

_My nephew carries his laptop everywhere, hopefully it'll be your case as well. Enjoy, old chap!_

_Derek'_

It had even taken Alex a few moments to realise who this Derek person was, and he wasn't sure whether to hate himself for it, or be comforted by the fact he was starting to forget a bit of the painful world he had left behind.

"Are you ready, Alex?" Sabina asked, leaning against the doorframe. Alex jumped, startled, cursing underneath his breath. He really was losing his touch. A mere six months ago, he would never have allowed someone to get this close to him without feeling him or her approach.

"Finally!" he replied. "I was beginning to think you were never coming to get me!"

"Well hopefully it'll have been worth the wait," she teased before starting down the stairs, only to stop once she realised Alex wasn't following. As she looked back, she saw him peering out the window.

It was raining heavily outside, and the wind had greatly reduced visibility as a continuous flow of water battered the sole window in the room. Yet something had caught Alex's attention. As he had many times over the past year, he could _feel_ that presence, as though someone was watching him from afar. As his eyes scrolled down the street, he could feel his heart skip a beat when he noticed a black Crown Victoria parked a few houses down. He couldn't be sure because of the tinted windows, but he _knew_ there were people in that car.

Quickly, Alex snapped out of the trance into which he had been falling and bolted down the stairs, rushing past Sabina who just rolled her eyes. She was used to it after all, this wasn't the first paranoia attack her friend had had since he joined her family.

'Why does it have to be now?' she thought, letting out a sigh of discouragement just as Alex had reached the bottom of the stairs.

Paying no attention to the voices coming from the kitchen, the newest member of the Pleasure family ran for the door, his heart beating faster and faster. _They_ were not taking him back. _They_ had no right to disrupt his life again, now that he had managed to restore a semblance of normalcy. As he approached the front door, Alex had made up his mind. He was not going to let _them_ spy on him any longer, no matter what he had to do.

As he reached the front door, he could feel the adrenaline flowing through his veins. The young spy in him was reinvigorated, he told himself. That had to be it. Yet deep down he knew, he was just scared. He pulled the door open and let the wind and rain hammer his face as he stepped outside. Rushing down the outdoor steps, he could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, tuning out the world around him. Suddenly he was back on a mission, and the outside world didn't matter. There was only him and _them_,he told himself.

When he crossed the yard and reached the street, his heart sank again. The Crown Victoria was gone, a figment of his imagination.

"Shit!" yelled Alex. Once again, he had let his paranoia take over him, despite his best efforts to control himself. He started walking towards where he thought the car had been, but turned around when he heard Sabina call after him. He really had to better control his impulses, he thought. Or they might send him back to the shrink. He ran back to the house and let Sabina push him inside, never noticing that farther down the street, there was still a patch of dry asphalt.

When he turned back inside, the teen met Mrs. Pleasure's worried look, and knew that once again, she would stop believing in his façade for a few weeks. The woman turned back toward the kitchen, and Alex suddenly remembered the voices he had heard coming from that room a few minutes earlier. As if reading his mind and fearing Alex would somehow attempt to escape, Sabina hastily pushed him toward the kitchen, holding his hand as an attempt to comfort.

As he entered the brightly lit room, Alex was shocked by the lengths the Pleasures had gone to in order to mark the special occasion. There were garlands hanging around the room, huge balloons tied down to the wooden furniture, and best of all, it seemed Sabina had managed to get all of Alex's few friends from school to come.

There was Mark, the captain of the _soccer_ team, who had pushed the British boy to try out for the team as soon as he had met him. Next to him were Matthew and Jacob, two other players on the team. At the dinner table in her wheel chair was Tina, whom he had met in his math class and who had really helped him get back up to speed in that field. She seemed to better understand him than anyone else he met.

Standing next to her was Cassidy – or was it Casey? – whom Alex really hadn't expected to see in the room. Seeing the brief look of confusion on her friend's face, Sabina leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"She begged me to let her come. Seems she's still gaga for your _adorable_ accent, as she put it."

Alex grinned briefly before noticing someone else sitting at the table with their back turned to him, talking with Mr. Pleasure. He'd recognise that spiked jet-black hair anywhere. Smiling from ear to ear, he couldn't help himself from shouting out, "Tom!"

Immediately, the small teen rose and turned around, his blue eyes beaming at the sight of his best friend. Alex rushed over and hugged him for what seemed like an inappropriately long time, squeezing the air out of his friend's lungs before letting go.

"I can't believe you came all the way here to see me!" Alex yelped, enthusiastically.

"To be fair, I had resigned myself to Skyping you a birthday cake before Mr. Pleasure here offered to fly me down for the week," his friend replied.

The former spy turned toward his adoptive father with an immense smile on his face, and also gave him a wholehearted hug, catching him off guard. Mrs. Pleasure almost gasped at the sight. It was the first time she had seen Alex hug anyone other than Sabina since he moved in with them.

Taking a step back, Alex looked at everyone in the room and spoke to all of them at once, just as he realised his clothes were still dripping all over the floor.

"Seems it wasn't the best idea to go outside for a shower," he joked. "Let me just go get changed. I can't believe you're all here!"

A second later, he was off, bolting out of the kitchen and up the stairs towards his room.

* * *

_Meanwhile, a few blocks away…_

"Shit that was close. Do you think he saw us?" asked the tall man sitting in the passenger's seat.

"Obviously, since he ran outside. Good thing you saw him through the window, but we'll have to be more careful from now on," replied the man seated next to him. He was shorter and leaner than his partner, but his tone suggested undeniable authority and self-assurance. Fidgeting with his cell phone, he dialled the dreaded number.

"This is Folan. We have a problem…" he started.

* * *

Once Alex reached his room, he shut the door and turned on the light, quickly stripping down to his boxers and tossing his wet clothes on the ceramic flooring of the adjoining bathroom. Realising the cold rain had _completely_ soaked him to the skin, he proceeded to take off his boxers and started rummaging through his drawers for a clean set of clothing to wear.

'I really need to do some shopping,' he mused. 'Guess I'll have to accept one of Sab's invitations someday.'

Then just as he felt a clean pair of boxers in the back of the top drawer, Alex found himself completely in the dark.


End file.
